


A Stranger To Your Soul

by BigSciencyBrain



Series: Solace [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigSciencyBrain/pseuds/BigSciencyBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki slowly comes back to himself, Steve wants a second chance, and the Clairvoyant sends Tony a message.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Stranger To Your Soul

There’s always a brisk wind at the top of Stark Tower.

Clint makes his way up carefully.  There’s an access ladder, but he prefers the long way when he needs to think.  Or get away from crazy people.   Which is pretty much everyone who lives at Stark Tower.

When he reaches the roof, he discovers that he’s not the first one there; Loki is perched on a corner.  Perched is the best word that Clint can think of.  Loki is in a crouch with only his feet and his hands touching the top of the thin wall.  The wind ruffles his feathers.  In the sunlight, Clint can see glimmers of green and gold in the black of his wings.  When he turns and looks at Clint, his expression gives nothing away.

Before The Meltdown – emphasis added – he’d find Steve up there sometimes.  It isn’t that he considers it _his_ place that no one else can go; it’s that Loki makes his skin crawl.  Clint decides that climbing back down is more work than it’s worth.  It might not be a spot that’s reserved only for him, but he’ll be damned if he lets it end up being Loki’s either.

He picks the adjacent corner, drops the six-pack and his quiver at the base of the wall, and swings his legs over.  Once he’s balanced, he reaches down to snag a beer and pops it open.   Next, he lays out the tools he’ll need to remove and trim the fletchings.  He tugs an arrow out of the quiver and starts cutting away the old fins, dropping the pieces of plastic back over the wall.  It’s a nice change of pace; strip a few arrows, drink some beer, then strip a few more.  He doesn’t think too much of it when he sees Loki move out of the corner of his eye, just sets another arrow aside and reaches for his beer.

“You’ll never find a better view of the city,” he says to no one in particular.  Definitely not to Loki.

Loki doesn’t respond, but this _new_ Loki doesn’t say much.  When Clint finally looks over, he sees that Loki is watching him.  More than that, he’s mimicking the way Clint is sitting.  As a test, he pulls his right ankle up to his left knee; one hand on his boot and the other holding the beer can against his knee.  After a few moments, Loki shifts into the exact same position.

Clint narrows his eyes.  He doesn’t think Loki is mocking him.  It seems more like animal mimicry, as though he’s trying to understand something about Clint by mirroring his movements.  These days, dealing with Loki is more like dealing with an overgrown raven than a super villain.

“Does Steve know where you are?  Or Thor?”  He can’t imagine either of them letting Loki out of their sight for even a moment, but here he is.

He sets aside his beer and drops his leg, reaching for another arrow.  The short knife slices through the underlying glue easily and it’s quick work to strip off two more.  He picks at the residual glue for awhile, trying to get as much as he can off without damaging the arrow shaft.  There’s no point in saying anything when Loki reaches over and picks up an arrow.  He watches as Loki inspects the arrow thoroughly, examining every part of it.

Clint holds up one of the fletches before he tosses it back onto the gravel.  He’ll pick them all up when he’s done and ready to go.  Or not.  “They used to make these out of feathers.” 

Loki runs the tip of his finger over the edge of a fletch and seems to consider that, but maybe Clint’s reading too much into it. 

“I don’t suppose this is all an act.”  He waves the end of his arrow vaguely in Loki’s direction.  “Pretending to be harmless so we don’t kill you.  Or maybe you just like the attention.”  He finishes scraping away all of the glue and starts on the next arrow.  As he’s pulling on the thin plastic, a new idea occurs to him and he gives Loki a speculative look.  “Do you molt?  Lose your feathers and grow new ones.  Do they ever fall out?  Do they break?”

Clint can imagine the look on Steve’s face right before he starts the lecture on why Clint can’t pluck Loki like a turkey.  Tony, of course, would be on Clint’s side and say it was for science.

“Soft one minute, slicing through stuff the next.  That’s a pretty cool trick.”  He holds up the arrow to inspect the tip.  “I wonder how long they stay solid if they fall out.”

He has more than a few ideas of what he’d do if he ever got his hands on some of Loki’s feathers.  If they stay solid, he’s not sure how he’d be able cut them into the shapes he needs.  He looks over again, scoping out the different sizes and layers of feathers.  Now that he’s up close, they’re built a lot like eagle wings, although he’s never seen an eagle with wing joints like that.  He wonders about weight ratios for awhile and exactly how Loki manages to carry Steve around while he’s flying. Steve isn’t exactly a lightweight

Loki keeps watching him.  He looks completely unafraid, as though unable to imagine that Clint, or anyone, would want to hurt him.  Or shove him off the top of Stark Tower.  Not that it would do any good, with the wings and all.

With a sigh, Clint sets his arrow and tools aside and reaches for another beer.  He pops the tab and holds it out for Loki.  “This is how people bond on this planet.  Not that we’re bonding.  We are not bonding.”

Cautiously, Loki accepts the can of beer.  He sniffs it before taking a drink and pulls a face.

“Wine snob.”  Clint swallows down a gulp of beer.  “You and Steve.  Gotta say, never saw that coming.  That’s some fucked up shit, right there.  Especially all the,” he stops because Loki is looking at him with something that looks an awful lot like confusion.  “Right.  You don’t remember the months of you and Steve fucking each other’s brains out.  And…everything else you two were into.”

Loki looks down at the beer can in his hands, brow furrowed.  “Steve,” he says quietly.

“I don’t like you.  But that’s not Steve’s fault.  It’s yours.”  There’s more he could say, more he _wants_ to say, but he leaves it at that and finishes his beer instead.

“Monster,” Loki says. 

It’s so soft that Clint wonders if his ears are playing tricks on him.  He doesn’t know what Loki means or how to respond to that so he reaches down and grabs another beer, setting it on the narrow wall next to Loki.

Clint gives up on getting more arrows stripped and decides to just drink the rest of the beer.  He likes Steve and he likes Thor and he understands what it’s like to have a brother who can be a pain in the ass.  At least Barney hasn’t ever tried to take over a planet.  He considers that for a moment and is unexpectedly cheered by the thought.   

He’s a little surprised when Loki finishes the beer in his hand and reaches for the can on the wall beside him, pulling on the tab until it opens.

“I bet flying is pretty damn cool,” Clint says he watches a flock of geese fly over them. 

Loki’s gaze follows; he turns his head to track the path of the geese.  When the birds fade out of sight, he turns forward again.  He reaches out, absently, and runs his hand over the edge of one wing. 

As Clint thinks about it, he figures Loki probably doesn’t remember how to fly either. 

When he’s finished off the six-pack, he gathers up the empty cans and his gear and starts the climb down.  He doesn’t look back to see if Loki is watching him or if Loki cares that he’s leaving.  The entire situation is too damn weird for Clint.  He’d been perfectly fine with Loki being _elsewhere_ and never coming back.

Still, Loki had refused to help Centipede get their hands on Steve and that isn’t nothing.  Clint isn’t sure it’s something, but it isn’t _nothing_ either.

A call from Fury comes in that night, he’s gone for a week, and someone else ends up dead; it’s business as usual.  When he returns, stiff and sore from landing on his ass in a dumpster, he decides that taking his boots off is undressed enough and collapses onto his bed.  Lying there, face pressed into the pillow, he sees something that hadn’t been there when he left. 

On the chair against the wall is a neatly stacked pile of black feathers.  He pushes up and heads over to check it out.  There are a variety of lengths and sizes in the pile; some of them are soft and some are rigid and razor edged.  There’s a subtle color difference between the two; the rigid feathers are a dark, silvery grey rather than black and lack the glossy sheen of the soft feathers.  He can barely feel a weight difference between soft and rigid.

“Well, how ‘bout that,” he says softly. 

**

Loki’s days are filled with lights too bright and sounds too loud; he struggles to understand what goes on around him but his mind is so fractured that coherent thoughts slip through his fingers like sand.  Words sound foreign; the others speak too fast for him to grab hold and force the word into a shape and a sound that he understands.  It’s even more difficult to prod his leaden tongue into the contortions required for speech.

His nights are filled with nightmares and monsters; he’s not always certain if he’s awake or asleep.

He pulls himself up barren, rocky slope on his hands and knees, until he can press himself into a hollow in the rock.  Behind him, he hears howling and screeching of monsters he’d managed to escape. 

With a shudder, he moves along the stone cautiously.  He doesn’t dare take his eyes off of the dim outlines of trees and brambles.  The shield on his arm scrapes lightly against the cliff.  He has to find a place to rest.  When his left hand meets nothing but open air, he realizes that he’s stumbled onto a cave.  His grip on the dagger tightening, he moves forward into the darkness.  After several steps, he realizes that he can see the rocks at his feet and along the wall.  There is light, somewhere, coming from deeper inside the cave.  He creeps silently, holding the dagger out in front of him in case yet another creature came after him.

The narrow passage opens up into a cozy cavern.  In the center, a fire burns brightly.  He starts toward it instinctively, then stops and waits, listening.  He is not alone; that much he can sense.  When nothing rushes out of the shadows to devour him, he keeps moving.  It is the first fire he’s seen and his skin soaks in the heat greedily.  Water drips softly, somewhere out of sight.  Although he’s felt no hunger, no thirst, there is a strange sensation gnawing at him.

He tucks the dagger into his belt and holds his hands out to the fire to warm them; he never seems to feel warm.  If he is making progress toward some unfathomable goal, he doesn’t know.  However many monsters he’s slain out in the endless night, there could be dozens, perhaps hundreds, more.

Footsteps, soft and careful, catch his ear.  He can hear someone breathing, hear their heart beating.

“Who is there?” he asks.

A silhouette appears several feet away.  A man, tall and broad shouldered.  His face is hidden in shadows.  “Hello, lover.”

Loki swallows.  He knows who this must be.  _Steve_.  He’d found the name carved into the side of a tree along with his own; like two children in love.  He remembers longing and shame and fear; he knows the shield on his arm rightfully belongs to Steve. 

Something about the shadows hiding the man’s face makes him uneasy.

“What have you come for this night?” the silhouette of Steve asks.

A sliver of ice twists in Loki’s gut.  “I would like to please you,” he answers.  It feels rehearsed, as though he’s reading from a book.

“How would you do that?” There is soft laughter in Steve’s voice.

Loki suddenly feels sick.  In that moment, he knows there is more horror inside the cave than he’s found outside it.  “What do you want?”

“You know what I want.”  Steve steps into the light

Loki turns away, retching.  When the convulsions stop, he wipes the back of his hand against his lips and forces himself to look.  What stands before him is more corpse than man.  Blue eyes have been gouged out, leaving dead, empty sockets.  His throat has been cut and blood oozes out to drip down his chest.  He is naked and deep lacerations cover his arms, abdomen, and legs.  Blood drips from jagged cuts along the inside of his wrists.

“Why?” Loki chokes out.  He’s asking himself and no one at all.

“You did this to me.  Don’t you remember?”

“NO!”  Loki shakes his head, sinking down to his knees.  “Please.  No.”

“You did this to me because you wanted to.”

“No.”

“You enjoyed it.”

“No, no.”

“You’re a monster.”

Loki curls over, unable to draw a full breath.  _Monstermonstermonstermonster._   He can’t stay here. 

Scrambling to his feet, he runs blindly from the cave and stumbles, falling down the slope back into the dark woods.  Brambles claw and scrape against his skin.  He sinks into thick, foul mud at the bottom of the cliff.  He uses the rough bark of a tree to pull himself up from the mud and move forward.  He’ll take his chances with the monsters that lurk within the trees. 

Howls rise up around him.  Wolves.

He forces himself to run, fighting for every step against the sucking mud around his feet.  They’re all around him and closing in.  He sees the bare outline of solid ground and sets himself grimly toward it.  When he finally feels rock beneath his feet, he is already imagining that he can feel the heat from the wolves’ breath at his back.  Arms and shoulders ache as he starts upward.  Once he reaches the top, he finds himself at the opening of a cave.  Goosebumps rise up on his arms as he starts into the darkness.  There is a fire burning and water dripping in the background.

A silhouette appears several feet away.  A man, tall and broad shouldered.  His face is hidden in shadows.

Loki runs.

He finds himself back at the same cave three more times before he is too exhausted to keep running.  It is clear that whatever is controlling his journey through this strange, nightmarish world will not allow him to continue until he faces the horror within the cave.  He moves slowly.  This time, he sets his dagger and the shield on the ground beside the fire and he waits.

“Hello, lover.”

“What do you want?” Loki asks hollowly.  He feels physically ill to see this nightmare version of Steve.

“You know what I want.”

Loki shakes his head.  “I didn’t.  Not until it was too late.”

Steve holds out his hands, revealing the deep slices in his wrists.  “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“I never wanted to hurt you!” Loki screams back at him.  The echo of his voice bounces sharply around the cavern.  He starts toward Steve, swallowing down the bile rising in his throat.

Steve turns his face toward him. “Then why did you?”

“I was a fool.  I was stupid and selfish and wrong.”  Loki reaches out, fingers trembling.  He can’t quite bring himself to touch Steve yet.  The wounds and the blood are too much.  “I thought you wanted it, that you needed it.  I thought…I thought you took pleasure in it.  I thought if I gave what you asked for, you would stay with me.  But it was wrong.  Forgive me, I was wrong.” 

Hollow, bloody eye sockets stare back at him. 

Gently, Loki reaches down and takes Steve’s hand in his.  He tugs him down to the floor of the cavern and pulls him close.  Blood is slick against his skin.  There is so much that he can taste it.  He eases Steve onto his lap, folding his wings around them.  “I cared for you before.  Let me care for you now.”

“Why?” Steve asks.  His voice is muffled, his head against Loki’s thigh.

“This is what I want.”  Loki strokes his fingers through Steve’s hair and ignores the blood.  “This is what I always wanted.”

After some time, he leaves Steve to pick up the shield.  He searches out the source of the dripping water and fills the shield with it.  When he returns, he kneels down beside Steve, setting the shield carefully on the ground, and rips away the sleeve of his tunic.  He soaks it with water and begins to wash the blood from Steve’s skin.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks.

“You will heal.”  He doesn’t think about how deep the cuts are.  Any number of them would have been mortal wounds, but still, Steve continues to bleed.

 _This is only a nightmare_ , he tells himself.  He lifts one of Steve’s hands and begins to wash the blood from his fingers.  In the daylight world, Steve is bright and perfect and _whole_.

“Forgive me,” Steve whispers.

He rips another length of cloth from his tunic and lays it over Steve’s empty eye sockets as a blind fold.  “I forgave you long ago.”

Once he has cleaned away all the blood, he falls asleep with Steve’s head in his lap, curled around him as though he could keep them both safe from the monsters beyond the cave.

**

The first time it happens, Steve is drawing.

He hears the door open and looks up.  “Who’s there?”

“Should I alert Thor, Captain Rogers?” JARVIS asks.

Steve sees Loki standing in the doorway, wearing only the soft pajama pants that he likes.  Setting aside the sketchbook and pencil, Steve climbs out of bed.  “Loki, are you alright?”

Loki blinks at him and then keeps walking, his eyes moving restlessly over everything.  Steve hasn’t heard Loki speak since the day Bruce brought him to the training floor, but he seems more responsive with each passing day.  In many ways, he’s childlike, as though experiencing the world for the first time.  When he reaches the bed, he lies down and folds his wings around him.  Steve bites his lower lip, unsure if he should leave Loki there or try to take him back to his room.

“A nightmare woke him, sir,” JARVIS says quietly.

 _And he came to me_ , Steve thinks. 

His hands shake a little as he tugs at the blanket and finally gets it settled over Loki’s legs.  Returning to his side of the bed, he settles back under the covers.  He picks up the sketchbook and continues drawing.  After awhile, he glances over to see Loki watching him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

After a moment, Loki nods.

“You can come to me any time, you know.  If…if you can’t sleep.”  He manages a smile.

“Steve,” Loki whispers.

He resists the urge to reach out and run his fingers through Loki’s hair.  It is almost an inch long now, but it’s still strange to see it so short.

“Steve,” Loki repeats.  He looks as though he’s struggling with something, trying to put something into words that he doesn’t fully understand.

He puts the sketchbook and pencil away for the night and settles down into the bed, rolling onto his side so he’s face to face with Loki.  “You can tell me, whatever it is.  I’m here.” 

Loki’s fingers shake as he reaches out.  Steve closes his eyes, feeling the soft brush of Loki’s fingertips over his eyelids, then against his throat.  He opens his eyes again when he feels Loki take his hand and turn it over.  He traces the veins along the inside of Steve’s wrist.

“It’s okay.”  Steve hopes he sounds reassuring.  “It was just a dream.”

A frown creases Loki’s brow for a moment.  He lays his palm against Steve’s, weaving their fingers together.  “Lover,” he says softly.

His earlier optimism fades as he wonders if that’s what Loki’s nightmare had been about. “We were.  We were together.  For awhile.” 

He waits but Loki says nothing else, eventually closing his eyes and curling tighter into his wings.  He doesn’t let go of Steve’s hand.  Steve manages to shut off the lamp on his bedside table and tries to sleep.  A hundred questions tumble around inside his mind, but he doesn’t dare ask any of them.  He tells himself the fact that Loki feels safe enough with him is more than he’d hoped for. 

Loki is gone when Steve wakes in the morning.

Uncertain if he should have returned Loki to his room, Steve goes to the closest thing they have to an expert.

“Did he have any more nightmares?” Bruce asks, frowning thoughtfully.

Steve shakes his head.  “Not that I know of.  He seemed fine.  And I think…I think he’s beginning to remember…us.  Me and him.  That we were….you know.  He called me ‘lover’.”

Bruce’s frown deepens.  “That might not be a good thing.  I don’t think he’s capable of understanding everything that went on between you, not yet.”  He swings his glasses lightly between his fingers.  “You need to be careful, Steve.”

“Oh, I won’t…I wouldn’t.  I’m not going to take advantage of him.”  Steve is mortified that Bruce would even think that he would.

“That’s not what I meant. The first thing he reacted to wasn’t Thor, wasn’t you, wasn’t any of us.  It was a symbol.”

Steve frowns.  “What do you mean?”

“Your shield is the symbol of Captain America.  And, for whatever reason, Loki recognized that symbol.  He recognized you as Captain America.  For him, there isn’t Steve Rogers and Captain America, there’s just you.  Your shield – _Captain America_ – was his link back to the world. I know you still don’t feel comfortable in the uniform or being Captain America.  But Loki reacted to your shield for a reason, Steve.  You need to think long and hard about that.”

He does.

He takes his shield out and carries it upstairs to clean and polish it.  Over the course of an hour, he runs his fingers over every inch of the shield, relearning its grooves and lines. The shield’s weight feels like an extension of his arm; it always has.  He’d known the moment he picked it up that it would be _his_.  Rather than return it to the armory, he leaves it in his room against the wall where he can see it.

All those nights he’d gone to Loki, searching for a way to escape the identity of Captain America and be free of it forever.  Bruce was right; it was strange that his shield had been the beacon that had drawn Loki out of his silence.  He remembers the t-shirt Loki had worn that night and the dozens of boxes of newspaper articles, photographs, and notes written in Loki’s careful handwriting. 

Maybe, all those nights he’d wanted to be anyone other than Captain America while Loki had _wanted_ Captain America.

That night, he waits and sketches, wondering if Loki will come to his room again.  Shortly after midnight, he hears the door open.  He smiles as Loki comes around the corner and nods toward the bed beside him.  The mattress shifts as Loki settles down onto it, curling into his wings and watching Steve curiously.

“My first shield looked like this.”  He holds up the sketchbook to show Loki the sketch of his prop shield.  “It wasn’t bad for something that was only meant for a stage.  Howard, Tony’s dad, had all sorts of elaborate shields made.  Like father, like son, I guess.  Always tinkering.  Anyway, that one,” he nods toward the shield against the wall, “that was my favorite.  Howard added the grip on the inside and they painted it up with red, white, and blue.  They wanted to make sure the enemy knew who they were facing when they saw the shield.  Captain America.  I had a team, every one of them crazy.  Called them the Howling Commandos.”

He tells Loki about each of the men, their names, their stories, and, for those who came home, what he knows of their lives after the war.  He talks about Bucky.  After he’s drawn caricatures of their faces, all laughs and smiles, he finally sets the sketchbook aside and turns out the light.

In the dark, he feels Loki’s fingers curl around his.  “I miss you,” he whispers.  Loki doesn’t answer but his grip on Steve’s hand tightens just for a moment.

It becomes part of his routine.

Every night, just after midnight, Loki comes into his room and curls up beside him.  As long as he’s there, he doesn’t have nightmares. 

Steve can’t bring himself to hope for anything more than that.

He talks, occasionally glancing over to see if Loki has fallen asleep.  He talks about baseball, about politics, about books he’s read, and music he’s listened to.  He tells Loki about movies and museums and art.  He fills a sketchbook with drawings of Loki lying beside him, green eyes watching him.

After several weeks, he wakes up one morning to find Loki still beside him, as though he’d forgotten to leave before dawn.  He smiles, happy that Loki feels safe enough to stay, and goes back to sleep.

When he wakes again, he sees Loki on the floor looking through one of his sketchbooks.  Trying not to disturb him, Steve climbs out of bed.  The sketch that Loki is staring at is a half finished image of him and Steve sitting together on a bench in Central Park.  He wonders why that particular sketch caught Loki’s attention.

“Hey,” he says as he settles down cross-legged beside Loki.

Loki looks up and Steve can’t get over how young, how innocent he seems now.  He reaches out without any hesitation and touches Steve’s cheek.

In that moment, Steve wants more than anything to lean in and kiss him.  Instead, he motions to the sketchbook.  “Would you like to see the real thing?  It’s supposed to be a nice day and you’ve been in the Tower for months.  If you’re up to going out, we could do that.  I’d…I’d like to take you, if you want.”

Loki looks down, his hand falling to the page and the sketch.  Finally, he nods.

Steve grins.  “Alright.  Let’s get some real clothes and some breakfast.”

He talks idly about nothing as he takes Loki back to the spare room where his haphazard collection of belongings is kept.  Other than the piles of books that Steve has brought to the Tower, there’s no indication that anyone lives there.  He averts his eyes – _tries to_ – as Loki strips away the soft pajama pants and finds clothes to wear.  He picks a dark pair of jeans and a soft t-shirt.  The shirt has been modified to fit around Loki’s wings, with two zippers inserted along the back; Loki hasn’t shown any sign of understanding how to use his magic to alter his appearance.  He hasn’t used magic at all.  He pulls a pair of sandals onto his feet and gives Steve a smile that is almost shy.

“I’ll get you settled for breakfast first.”  Steve leads him back to the common area and the kitchen.  As he cooks eggs, bacon, and thick slices of potato; he talks about Central Park and everything they’ll see once they get there.  He has to resist the urge to press a kiss against Loki’s hair as he sets a plate of food and a glass of orange juice down on the table in front of him.  Murmuring that he’s going to go get dressed, he hurries back to his room and grabs whatever clothes he can find. 

Loki hasn’t quite finished eating when Steve returns.  He makes his own breakfast and takes the seat across the table.  When they’ve eaten, he clears away the dishes and tidies up.  He leaves a note so the others will know where they’ve gone.  He tells JARVIS too, just to be thorough.  Thor is visiting Jane and won’t be back until that afternoon.  It’s little enough escape; Steve can’t begrudge Thor from wanting a few hours with the woman he loves.  As happy as Thor is to have Loki back in his life, Steve knows that seeing Loki this way, having to handle him as though he’s a child, is harder on Thor than he’ll admit.

He doesn’t think about Loki’s wings until they’re on the street.  Until he realizes that he can still see them, that _everyone_ can them, and people are staring.  Loki is staring up at the city, eyes wide, and the look on his face is one of amazement; there’s no comprehension in his face that his wings are at all unusual.  Steve smiles, saying nothing, but keeps his eye out for anyone who might take their interest in Loki too far.  He sees phones held up to get pictures, but Loki doesn’t seem to notice any of it.

Unhurried, they walk to Central Park and find a bench to sit on.  Steve buys hot dogs with everything on them and watches as Loki devours his with single-minded enthusiasm.

He notices Loki watching the birds with rapt interest.

When they’ve seen all of Central Park, Steve takes Loki to a farmers’ market and they wander through the stalls.  People gape at Loki’s wings, more phones flash, but Loki is focused on the food around him.  He takes a particular interest in a bin of tart apples; Steve ends up buying a bag of them.  By the time they’ve seen the whole market, he’s picked up a small bag of spices that had caught Loki’s interest as well.

Back at Stark Tower, Steve settles at the kitchen table while Loki sets their purchases out on the counter.  He finds the flour and olive oil, setting those out as well.  Steve thinks he has a pretty good idea of what Loki’s trying to accomplish, so he hunts down the measuring cups, a rolling pin, and a couple of pie tins.  He watches Loki’s hands as he works.  There is no hesitation as long fingers combine flour, oil, and water into dough.  In this, Loki seems absolutely sure of what he’s doing.  Once the dough is spread over the pie tins, Loki washes the apples and carefully peels away the skins before he gives them to Steve to slice into a bowl filled with a mixture of sugar and spices.

They work in silence; Steve finds it comfortable.  He watches Loki make delicate patterns in the layer of dough that he lays over the mound of sugared apples.  After the pies go into the oven, Loki sets the kettle on the stove and pulls down two mugs.  He sorts through the collection of teas in the cupboard before settling on a flavor.

It amazes Steve to see how far Loki has come from being unable to use a fork and spoon.  Part of him wants to call Thor just to let him know.

When the kettle starts to whistle, Loki pours out water into the two mugs and sets one on the table in front of Steve.  There is a shy smile on his lips.

“Thanks.”  Steve curls his fingers around the mug.  He’s trying to remember the last time he enjoyed spending a day in the city as much as today.  “We should’ve…we should’ve done this a long time ago.  It could’ve been different for us.  I’m sorry it wasn’t.  I’m sorry I couldn’t give you this, before.”

Loki watches him, his expression giving no indication of whether or not he understands Steve’s words.  After a moment, he sets down his mug and reaches out to brush the back of Steve’s hand with his fingertips.  Trying to smile, Steve holds perfectly still.  He can be patient as Loki works through whatever he’s trying to communicate.  He’s realized that there must be a great deal going on within Loki that he is struggling to bring to the surface; every word seems to be enormous effort.

“Steve,” Loki says finally.  “Forgiven.”

Tears sting Steve’s eyes.  “How about a movie?  Curling up with tea and a movie sounds perfect.”  He heads for the living area, pulling pillows off of the couches and piling them in the center of the floor.  “JARVIS?”

“What would you like to watch, Captain?” JARVIS asks.

“Casablanca?  Yeah, that would be good.”  He settles down, carefully setting his tea on the floor beside him, and leans back against the pillows.

As the movie begins to play on the large screen against the wall, Loki eases down beside him, rolling to his side to keep from pressing against his wing joints.  He maneuvers a pillow to lay his head against, one hand curled around the mug of tea beside him.

The buzzer for the pies sounds before the movie is over.  Steve insists that he’ll take care of it.  He pulls them out of the oven and sets them on the stove top to cool.  His mouth waters at the rich aroma; he can’t wait to taste them.  He could get used to Stark Tower smelling like homemade apple pie, that’s for sure.  He returns to the living room and lies down beside Loki again. 

He could get used to this too.

**

The unmistakable smell of fresh apple pie reaches Bruce as the elevator doors open. He finds two freshly baked pies on the stove.  He also finds Steve and Loki asleep on the floor in the middle of the living room.  They’re on their sides, facing each other and holding hands.

Bruce can’t help smiling a little, even as he backs away quietly.  He’s still smiling when he gets back to the lab.

“There’s apple pie upstairs,” he tells Tony.

“You don’t have Steve.  I sent you up there for Steve.”  Tony leans out from behind the section of armor that he’s working on.  “Why don’t you have Steve?”

“Steve is asleep.”  Bruce sits back down at his table and tries to focus on the calculations he’d left running.  “With Loki.”

“Are they naked?”

“They’re holding hands, that’s all.”

“That is sickeningly sweet.”  Tony disappears back behind the armor and Bruce hears the sizzle of an arc welder for several minutes.  When Tony reappears, sliding his welding goggles up onto his head, he’s frowning.  “Do you think they’re…you know?”

Bruce shakes his head.  “But maybe we won’t have to show Steve that footage after all.”

“He deserves to know.”

“Maybe he doesn’t need to know.”  Bruce gives Tony a meaningful look.  “Sometimes ignorance is kindness.”

Tony takes a seat, arms folded over his chest.  “And what about Loki.  Are we sure he’s not just pulling the wool over our eyes?”

“Is there any way for us to know for sure?” Bruce counters.  “If this is an act, if Loki is playing us, we won’t know until he makes his move.  If we even know then.  But I don’t think he’s faking it.  What does he have to gain here?”

“Other than getting back into Steve’s pants?”

Bruce stares at him for several moments.  “If you were a thousand year old Norse god, would sex be that important to you?  Steve’s mortal.  Loki’s going to outlive him by thousands of years.”

Tony opens his mouth and then closes it, giving Bruce an irritated look.  “Point taken.”

“We know he won’t hurt Steve.”

“Unless he wants it.”

Swallowing down a sigh, Bruce turns away from his computer.  “We should probably get everyone together and talk about this.”

“About what will happen if this is all a game Loki is playing and how he’ll turn on us when it’s not fun anymore?”

Bruce wishes he could shake the worry that Loki was pulling of the con of the century, but he can’t.  “Yes.” 

He doesn’t want to think of what that will do to Steve or Thor.  Not after they’ve spent so much time looking after Loki and even more time worrying about what will happen if they never get him back.  As much as Steve denies it, the hours of reading aloud to Loki say more than all of Steve’s words combined; Steve cares deeply for Loki and everyone knows it.

“We should be prepared for the worst.”

“I don’t think Loki is something you can prepare for.”  Bruce takes a deep breath.  “We have each other.  If he does turn on us, that’s all we’ll have.”

Tony gives him a wide grin.  “Good enough for me.  And speaking of planning for the worst, I had an idea.” 

“Tony,” Bruce begins.  He knows that tone of voice and it usually ends in flames.

“I think I found evidence that Centipede has managed to worm their way into Stark Industries, just a little.  Not enough to take anything, but they’re trying.”  Tony got up and crossed to the work bench, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands clean.  “I set a trap for them.  Fed them a nice little treat.  And they’ll end up leading us right to the Clairvoyant.”

“And if they figure out it’s just bait?”

Tony shrugs.  “They’ll know I’m onto them.  What’re they going to do?  It’s not like they’re going to send me a nasty gram because I outsmarted them.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate them, Tony.  We still don’t know what their endgame is.”  He knows Tony is going to brush it off and go ahead with his plan; the potential payoff is too much for Tony to resist. 

Bruce thinks they’ve got enough trouble without going looking for more.

**

Steve comes awake with the sensation of weight pressing against his legs.  As he opens his eyes, he sees Loki straddling him, his head tipped to the side like a bird.  Staying very still, he tries to take deep breaths.  The movie is just ending.

“Loki?” he manages to ask.

Loki stares down at him; his expression is more confused than anything else.

“Are you okay?” Steve licks his lips.  The glance down is out of habit and his breath stutters in his throat when he sees the obvious erection.  The image goes straight to his groin and he has to force himself not to move. 

Loki looks down for a moment, clearly unsure.

“Hey, it’s okay.  It’s normal.”  Steve struggles to push himself into a half-upright position.  

Loki moves his hands to Steve’s shoulders and his fingers knead into the muscles.  His pupils are dilated and Steve can feel a subtle rock in his hips.

He tries to think about anything other than Loki sitting on his lap and his wings making small strokes against the air.  Those wings; they’ve been his undoing from the very first day.  He moves one hand, fingers trembling, and rubs the backs of his knuckles against the strip of denim covering the zipper of Loki’s jeans.  Loki’s hips move to press against Steve’s fingers; a soft moan escapes his lips.

“This is…are you sure?” He doesn’t know if Loki even understands what he’s doing and that makes him nervous.

But Loki is grinding against his hand now and it’s too easy to undo the button, tug the zipper down, and reach inside.  He curls his fingers around Loki’s cock and feels him shudder.  One arm wrapped around Loki’s back, he buries his face against his chest.  It isn’t long, barely a handful of strokes, before he feels Loki tense and warm drops of semen cover his hand and chest. 

“Lover,” Loki breathes against his ear.

He can’t believe that Loki still _wants_ him.  It takes all the self control he has to pull away.  “We’re going to do this right.  This time.  I’m going to make it up to you.  All of it.  I promise.”

He can’t believe he’s been given a second chance.

**

The training floor was the only indoor space in Stark Tower that Steve thinks will be big enough for what he wants to do.  He whistles as he clears gear and mats to the sides of the space, freeing up as much floor space as possible.  

“You’ve been in a good mood lately,” Natasha comments.  Her hair sticks to her forehead and neck; her face is flushed from exercise. 

“Yeah.”

“Heard you and Loki went out to dinner last night.”

“We did.”  Steve drops the last weight bag onto the stack and wipes the back of his hand over his forehead. 

“Was it a date?”

“Yes.”  He glances around, trying to gauge whether or not he’s cleared away enough space.  “Did you stick around to ask twenty questions or is there something specific you want to know?”

She shrugs and takes a swallow from her water bottle before answering.  “Just wondering.  You two have a pretty messed up history.”

There’s no denying that.  “It’ll be different this time.  I’m different, he’s different.”

“And this?”  She motions to the room around them.

“He hasn’t used his wings or tried to fly since he woke up.  I thought maybe I could get him to try.  In a controlled environment.”

There’s room enough for Loki to spread his wings fully and possibly even get into the air for a short flight.  Steve thinks that will be good for now.  If all went well, then they’d move on to open spaces outdoors. 

“Are you sleeping with him?” she asks suddenly.

“Not if you mean sex, no.  He sleeps in my room with me, because he doesn’t have nightmares when he’s there.  But we haven’t had sex.”  Steve finally turns to face her.  Beyond the time he woke up with Loki on his lap, they’ve done little more than hold hands.  More often than not, he wakes up in a tangle of limbs, with Loki pressed against him, but nothing further.  Loki seems to understand Steve’s reluctance.  “I’m not…I’m not ready.  And he’s definitely not ready.”

The answer seems to satisfy her and she smiles.  “Mind if I stick around and watch?”

“Not at all.”  He’s surprised, but also pleased at her interest and her acceptance. 

He whistles as he rides the elevator up to the residential floor.  When he rounds the corner to the kitchen area, where he’d left Loki, he’s surprised to see both Clint and Tony as well.  Clint has an entire spatula stuck in his mouth and he freezes when he sees Steve, looking guilty.  Tony freezes as well, his hand reaching into the bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough.  Behind them, Loki is carefully lifting freshly baked cookies onto a cooling rack.

Steve wishes he had a camera.

“Can I borrow the cook?” he asks with a grin.  He grabs a cookie.  It’s still warm from the oven and crumbles in his hand, chocolate oozing as it breaks.  “I told you guys he could cook.”

“Forget the mischief and lies shtick, he should be the Norse God of cookies and pie,” Tony says through a mouthful of cookie dough. 

When Loki has finished transferring the cookies, he pulls off the apron and sets it aside.  “Steve.”

He still doesn’t say much more than Steve’s name, but it’s enough.  Steve catches his hand and pulls him toward the door.  “I’d like to try something, if you feel okay with it.  If it makes you uncomfortable, we’ll stop, alright?”

Loki nods and follows trustingly.

Steve doesn’t let go of his hand, their fingers loosely tangled together, until he pulls Loki out into the center of the training room.  Natasha is still there, bent into a hamstring stretch.  He pivots to face Loki and gives him an encouraging smile.  “I thought it might be a good to stretch your wings a bit.”  Loki’s brow furrows, not understanding what Steve means. 

He steps around Loki, taking care not to make any sudden movements.  Settling his fingers lightly at the joint where they began, he gently strokes up along the ridges and then down.  Carefully, he tugs at the larger feathers to pull Loki’s wings out from their tightly closed position.  Loki resists him at first, but gradually begins to relax into the motion and his wings flex easily under Steve’s touch.  The feathers are cool and silken against his fingers; Loki had never let him touch them like this, like he’d wanted to, and he almost forgets what he meant to do as he runs his hands over them.

“Captain Rogers?” JARVIS asks.  “I have prepared a selection of music based on your criteria.”

“Right.”  Steve clears his throat.  He pulls away from Loki reluctantly and moves back around to face him.

The music starts.  It’s lively and cheerful, filled with high spirited fiddles and guitars.  He turns sideways and moves through several steps of the dance that Loki taught him at Freetown.  Loki watches him curiously for awhile, then begins to study the movements as Steve repeats them.  After a moment, he turns so he is parallel to Steve and mimics the steps.

“That’s right.”  Steve continues to add step after step, repeating the patterns just as Loki had done for him. 

Once Loki has mastered the basic pattern, Steve adds a jump at the end.  He hopes it’ll be enough to trigger Loki to use his wings for balance.  Loki hesitates so Steve repeats the steps several more times.  He grins when Loki finally makes a leap of his own, his wings shifting and moving unconsciously.

“There you go.” He nods.

It takes a great deal of repetition and coaxing.  Even after a half an hour, Loki is only beginning to use his wings, but Steve considers that a victory.  When he pauses to catch his breath, he realizes that the rest of the Avengers are standing or sitting along the perimeter of the room and watching Loki.  It’s enough to spur him on; he wants them to see how graceful Loki is.  After Loki gets through the entire pattern, with several leaps and jumps added into the mix, however diminished they may be compared to his previous abilities, Steve decides that he’s happy with the progress they’ve made and stops.

“You did really well,” he tells Loki and is rewarded with a bright smile.

“May I join you?” Thor asks.  “I believe I have something to show you.”

“Sure.”  Steve waves him forward.  He’s surprised when Thor crosses to the far wall first and pulls two of the heavy, wooden training staffs from the wall.

Thor offers one to Loki, who accepts it with a puzzled frown.  “You may want to get out of the way, Captain.”  He’s grinning as he settles his large hands into a comfortable grip on the staff.

Nervousness chills Steve’s enthusiasm, but he trusts Thor to take care with Loki and not push him too far.  He leaves them and settles into a place with the others watching.

The staff spins through Thor’s hands easily before he stops it and brings one end down onto the floor in a succession of quick strikes.  His feet move through the initial pattern of steps and the staff sounds out against the ground at the end of each sequence.  Steve had wondered if the dance had roots in combat training, but now he’s certain.  He’s not surprised that Loki found a way to turn something meant to be lethal into something beautiful either.  Thor’s steps are deliberate and purposeful, with none of the flourishes or whimsical grace that Loki has.

Thor strikes first, not hard, and Loki raises the staff with both hands to block the attack.  His face is drawn in concentration.

It continues that way for some time.  Thor going through the steps methodically, introducing attacks at the ends of the sequences.  If he is frustrated by Loki’s lack of offense, it doesn’t show.  He stops several times to adjust Loki’s hold on the staff or show him the details of a particular grip.  The first time Loki spins around and lunges forward, catching Thor’s staff with a loud crack, Thor’s boisterous laugh echoes through the room.  Their steps quicken after that and soon they are trading blow for blow, the clash of wood ringing out in a dance they’ve practiced for centuries.

Steve can see that Loki is using his wings more.  They open further, spread wider, and change angle to help him defend or attack.  When he leaps, he gets higher into the air, and Steve tells himself that it’s only a matter of time before Loki remembers that he can fly.  He’s grinning as he watches.  When he glances to the side, he sees the others are fixated by the flurry of action in front of them as well.  With the music still playing, it seems a beautiful, elegant dance.

The end of Loki’s staff strikes hard against the floor when he plants it.  He swings around it, off the ground, and his feet connect with Thor’s chest.  The impact knocks Thor back several yards and the staff falls from his hands.  Loki lands and reorients the staff in his hands with a spin that belies years of practice.  He takes two steps toward Thor before leaping into the air; his wings spread wide and then tuck into a diving position.  As he comes down, staff aimed at Thor, a shimmer of green and gold spreads over his body.

Steve forgets to breathe.

Gold horns curve up from his helmet; leather and metal replace the jeans and t-shirt.  It’s the armor he’d worn when he came to conquer Earth, with one significant change.  Now, there are matching segments of carved, burnished metal wrapping up the ridges of his wings.  Thor’s smile falters.  An instant later, Loki’s boots hit the ground and the end of the staff stops inches away from Thor’s throat.

“Loki?” Thor asks quietly.

Steve starts forward immediately, seeing concern in Thor’s face.  Before he can reach them, Loki pulls away from Thor and drops the staff.  He’s staring down at his arms, bewildered by the sudden appearance of the armor.  A cascade of expressions too fast to catch move across his face and he begins to tear at the vambraces on his forearms as though they’re burning him.  Thor climbs to his feet quickly, reaching out for Loki.

“Loki, Loki.”  Steve gets to him first and tries to catch his hands.  “It’s alright.  It’s okay.  It’s magic.  Your magic.  Don’t be frightened.”  Loki continues to tear at the armor, fumbling with straps and buckles.  He is visibly agitated, wrenching the helmet off and hurling it away.

Thor approaches with his hands open in a show of peace.  “Loki.” 

That only seems to increase Loki’s anxiety.  His wings shift into the silvery grey that means they’ve become dangerous.  Thor and Steve fall back, out of range.

“Please, Loki,” Steve begins.  “Try to calm down.  It’s okay.”

With a frustrated, anguished howl, Loki sinks to his knees and presses his face into his hands.  His wings curl tight into a cocoon around him.  Images begin to appear and fill the room; Steve nearly jumps out of his skin. Suddenly, they are surrounded by castings of Chitauri soldiers, each of them menacing and angry.  Enormous tree trunks begin to rise up from the floor; they are dark, twisted trees covered with glistening black bark.  The sounds of wolves howling fill the room, mixing with the screeching of the Chitauri.

“What the hell?” Tony shouts.  “Is he doing this?”

“They are not real,” Thor says loudly, holding his hand out.  “They cannot harm you.”

Steve doesn’t think Loki has control over what they’re seeing; the horrors around them are coming straight from Loki’s mind.  He tries to take in all of the details, hoping that it will help him understand what Loki is going through.  One of the Chitauri isn’t dressed in armor, but a long robe with a wide cowl.  Blood stained teeth are visible behind a strange, metal mask.  The creature comes toward Loki, hissing, reaching for him with clear malevolence.

Steve steps between the illusion and Loki.  His skin tingles as the hand touches him and then it begins to shimmer and the image collapses.  The rest quickly begin to dissolve and, in moments, the training room has returned to normal.  Glancing over his shoulder, Steve sees that Loki is still curled over his knees, head in his hands and rocking slightly back and forth.  His wings are black and gleaming again.  Steve crouches down, reaching through feathers to brush his hand over Loki’s hair.  He’s shocked to feel that it’s long again.

“Loki?”

Wings shift and open, folding around his back to pull him in.  He doesn’t resist.  It takes a few moments to find a position that’s comfortable; Loki on his lap, his arms wrapped around Loki’s waist, Loki’s forehead resting against his collarbone.  He feels the soft drop of tears falling against his shirt.  He rocks Loki gently, tells him it’ll all be okay, and reminds him that he’s not alone. When the tears subside and Loki stops shaking, the armor begins to fade.  Leather and metal shift to worn jeans and a soft t-shirt.

“Hey.”  Steve presses his hand against the side of Loki’s neck, rubbing his thumb against the line of his jaw.  “This is good.  You haven’t used your magic since we found you.  This is a good thing.  It’ll take a bit of getting used to, like everything else, that’s all.  You’re fine.  You’re going to be fine.”

Loki doesn’t look convinced; he looks haunted.

“Is that what you see in your nightmares?  The Chitauri?” Steve asks.  He keeps his touch light, running his hands over Loki’s shoulders and back.  It was something Loki had always enjoyed.

Eventually, Loki nods. 

Steve tries to smile. “You can always show me what you see, if that would help you.  You’re not alone.”

A look of pain crosses Loki’s face.  He begins to shift away, pulling his wings back and folding them tight against his sides.  Steve takes his hands, getting to his feet and helping Loki up.  The others are still there; Thor is standing a few feet away, looking anxious.  After a moment, Loki pulls his hands away and stares down at them again, as if he’s still trying to comprehend how the armor appeared and then disappeared.

“Let’s head upstairs,” Steve suggests.  “There are fresh cookies.”

The others need no further encouragement.  Thor lags behind the others, still watchful and concerned.  Steve keeps one hand on Loki’s lower back as they make their way. 

Most of the cookies are gone by the time Steve and Loki reach the kitchen, but he doesn’t mind.  The others are laughing and joking around.  Bruce is dipping a cookie in a glass of milk.  Thinking that Loki would handle a quieter area better, he gets him settled on a bench in the living room.  Loki is still staring at his hands.

Steve returns to the kitchen and starts the kettle heating on the stove.  He grabs one of the last cookies as he picks through the selection of tea.

“Bet that was a surprise,” Tony comments.  “Guess he forgot he was magic.”

Steve stays silent. He thinks Loki had remembered a lot more than his magic, possibly triggered by sparring with Thor. The apparitions of the Chitauri and the horror in Loki's eyes; he must have remembered what led to his attempt to conquer Earth and the Battle of New York.

“More likely he forgot how to control it consciously.”  Bruce swallows a mouthful of cookie.  “He’s been using it to control the density of his wings all this time, but that’s been purely instinct.  This is a big step for him, developmentally.”

“Why do you think he doesn’t talk more?” Clint asks.  “He understands what’s going on around him.”

Bruce shrugs.  “Could be a lot of reasons.  It could be that the part of his brain that controls speech is still healing.”

“It’s weird.  Him being quiet all the time.  He was always talking before.” 

Steve glances at Clint and notices the others watching him as well.  As far as he knew, the last time Clint had spent time with Loki was before the Chitauri invasion and Clint never talks about it.  “We didn’t…we never talked much.”

“I’m sure your mouths were otherwise occupied.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve pulls out a tin of chamomile tea and a mug.  “Even when they weren’t, he didn’t say all that much.”  Of course, he hadn’t exactly tried to engage Loki in conversation either.

When the tea is ready, he carries it carefully out to the living area and sets it down on a table where Loki can reach it.  Loki hasn’t moved; his hands in his lap and his head down.  Thor takes a seat on a sofa nearby, a plate of cookies in one hand.  Steve doesn’t think much of it when the others slowly begin to gravitate to the living area.  Tony pulls up a holographic display of the new armor he’s working on and pulls Bruce over to look at it.  Digging out one of the game controllers, Clint settles onto a bean bag to play while Natasha curls into the papasan chair with a book.

Unable to resist, Steve heads for his room to get a sketchbook.  It’s not unusual to see them all in the same room, but it’s still infrequent enough that he wants to capture the moment somehow.

When he returns, Loki isn’t sitting on the bench and everyone is staring at the kitchen.  As he opens his mouth to ask where Loki went, he sees him come back into the living area with a can of beer in each hand.  Loki opens one and holds it out to Thor.  Looking slightly puzzled, Thor accepts.  Loki opens the second one before he drags the bench over to the sofa and sits down.  It’s as close as he can get to sitting side by side with Thor.

Thor looks to Steve imploringly.  “Do you know what this means?”

Clint sighs and turns back to his video game.  “He’s trying to bond.”

“Bond?” Thor asks.

Clint sinks down further into his bean bag.  “I may…but you can’t prove anything…I may have told him that’s how people on Earth bond.  They drink beer together.”

Thor’s face lights up and he smiles, raising his beer in Loki’s direction.  “Thank you, brother.”

Loki raises his beer slightly.  “Thor.”  It’s the first time he’s used Thor’s name.

Now he definitely has to capture this on paper.  Steve sits down, cross legged on the floor, and props the sketchbook against his knees.  He doesn’t think this moment will last long.

“Clint,” Natasha begins, not looking up from her book.

“We were not bonding,” Clint says tersely before she can continue.  “We drank beer.  In the same location.  It was not bonding.”

“Whatever you say, Clint.”

**

The air is perfectly still.  The silence is complete.

Loki walks through streets filled only with the debris of fallen buildings.  There are no people, no bodies, no bones.  There are no ghosts.

As far as he can see, the mighty Realm of Asgard has been reduced to broken stone.  Beyond its edges are the dark forest he’d come from.  He doesn’t know what he’s searching for in this fallen Asgard.  A sign, perhaps, of those he had once loved;  Thor, Frigga, Odin.  Perhaps the Warriors Three and Sif, whom he’d once called _friends_.  

He finds the palace – what is left of it – and wanders the crumbling corridors.  When he reaches the throne room, he isn’t surprised to see a figure seated on the throne.

He resists the urge to kneel as he approaches the dais.  “Allfather.  What has happened here?”

“Asgard has fallen.  Is that not what you wished for?” Odin says coldly.

Loki bites his tongue to keep from speaking.  He remembers standing in this place before, remembers Odin telling him of his _true_ birthright.  “And the other Realms?”

“Dead.  Burned to ash.  Because of you.”

“Me?” Loki says, incredulous.  “How could this possibly be my doing?”

The smile on Odin’s face is pure malice.  A shimmer washes over him and then it is Loki on throne.  This _other_ Loki is colder, darker, and a bright hatred burns in his eyes.  “Come now, why so surprised?” 

“You did this.”

“We did this.”  The Loki on the throne stands.  “This is our destiny.  To rule.”

“Over what?”  Loki takes a step back as the _other_ Loki starts down the steps.  “The Nine Realms are dead.”

The _other_ Loki shrugs as though that is a minor, unimportant detail.

“Thor?” Loki asks.

“He was bound in the dungeons and then executed as a traitor and enemy of the true King of Asgard.” 

Loki tightens his grip on the dagger in his hand, bringing his arm up to hold Captain America’s shield between him and the _other_ Loki.  It is not a moment too soon.  He deflects the blast from Gungnir; it scorches and cracks a swath of stone instead.

“You are weak,” the _other_ Loki snarls.  “Pathetic.  You are no more than a simpering lap dog begging for scraps.”

“I am not,” Loki says through gritted teeth.

“You turned away from your destiny.  _Our_ destiny.”

“I never wanted any of this!”

“Do you truly believe that he loves you?  That he could _ever_ love you?  The good and virtuous hero of Midgard.”  With an ugly smile on his face, the _other_ Loki lunges forward; the sound of Gungnir striking hard against the shield rings out like a bell.  “Look what you’ve become.  For him.  For _love_.”

Loki stumbles back, searching for better footing.  “I am no less than I was before.”

“Fool,” the _other_ Loki spits at him.  “This is what we were meant for.  THIS.”  He sweeps his arm out, indicating the ruins around them.

“No,” Loki says quietly.  “This is no rule.  This is no kingdom.”

“Sentiment.”

Loki swallows; his skin is cold with fear.  For all the monsters in the dark woods, all the wolves and serpents, he hasn’t encountered anything he knows to be as cunning and twisted as _himself_.  He knows exactly what this enemy is capable of and it terrifies him.

“I will not allow you to destroy our destiny.”  The _other_ begins to circle, his expression menacing.  “Only one of us will leave this place.”

Images of what would happen if he woke in the morning, beside Steve, with this _other_ Loki in control chill him to the bone.  He spreads his wings, turns them sharp as daggers, and faces this enemy as he has faced all of the others. 

His grip on the shield tightens.  “I said that I was no less than I was before.  You will find that I am far more.”

**

The buzzing of his phone pulls Steve from his work.  Brushing sawdust from his shirt and pants, he tugs off the leather work gloves before reaching for the phone.  The caller ID tells him that it’s Natasha.

“Hey—“

“We need you back at the Tower,” she says urgently.

“What happened?”

“It’s Loki.”

“I’m on my way.”  He ends the call and shoves the phone in his pocket.  He’s at a dead run by the time he reaches the door and doesn’t stop running until he reaches Stark Tower.

“JARVIS?” he pants, almost skidding into the elevator.  The doors close and it starts to move without him pressing any buttons.  “What happened?  Where’s Loki?”

“Thor was able to get him to the training floor, Captain, and keep him there.”

“Is he alright?”

“No one has been permanently injured.”

 _Permanently_ , Steve thinks.  He closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing.  When the elevator opens, the doors are too slow for him.  He pushes through and hurries down the short hallway.

Thor is standing in the center of the room.  There are bloody cuts on his arms and one across his face.  On the floor beside him, Loki is lying awkwardly on his back, struggling with the weight of Mjolnir on his chest.  Thor looks up when he hears Steve, his expression serious. 

“Be careful,” he admonishes when Steve rushes to Loki.

“What happened?”  Steve kneels down at Loki’s side.  Loki’s eyes are wide and unfocused, his face unusually pale and tinged slightly blue.

“I do not believe he meant to hurt anyone.”

“What happened?”  Steve repeats, his voice rising.  He looks around for any of the others and sees Natasha and Clint standing several feet away.  They both look as though they’ve gone a couple rounds in a boxing ring.

“He froze his room and half the goddamn floor,” Clint finally says.

Steve blinks.  “He what?”

“You heard me.  He froze his room and then he started freaking out and everything he touched just froze.  And he turned blue.  Blue.  With these crazy red eyes.”

“Thor, could you?”  He gestures to Mjolnir.  An instant later, it lifts off of Loki’s chest and flies to Thor’s hand.  Steve takes Loki’s hands in his – they are cold as ice – and helps him to sit up.  Loki looks more terrified than anything and doesn’t resist when Steve pulls him into his arms.  “I should’ve seen this coming.  I’m sorry.  It’s going to be okay, Loki.  I’m here.”

“Will someone tell me how he can freeze things?” Clint demands.

“Frost Giants are able to control ice and snow,” Thor answers, looking unsettled.  “Though I have never seen Loki show such abilities.”

“I have.”  Steve tries to give the others a reassuring smile.  “He couldn’t control it.  Just like he couldn’t control his magic the first time.  That’s all.” 

He can’t imagine how frightening it would’ve been to suddenly have everything he touched covered with ice.  Of all of the scenarios he’d run through in his head on his frantic run to Stark Tower, this hadn’t been one of them and he’s almost shaking with relief.  Gently, he helps Loki to his feet and back upstairs.  There are dark circles under his eyes and he looks exhausted.  Steve settles him into his bed and pulls a blanket over his legs, hoping he’ll sleep.

The living area looks torn apart.  He surveys the damage before he checks out Loki’s bedroom.  Every inch of the room is covered with a thick sheet of ice that has only just begun to melt.

“Tony’s not going to be happy,” he sighs.  “JARVIS, any bright ideas?”

“I have made arrangements for a restoration company specializing in flood damage to be here first thing tomorrow morning.  Miss Potts will be arriving shortly to begin the damage assessment,” JARVIS answers.  “My sensors indicate it will take at least twenty four hours for the ice to melt.”

He finds Natasha straightening up the living area, shoving shredded pillows into a large trash bag.  Thor is cleaning blood away from the cuts on his arms.

“Are you alright?” he asks.  He heads for the kitchen and the large first aid kit they keep under the sink.

“They are not deep.  He was merely frightened.”  Thor accepts the stack of gauze that Steve hands him.  “I admit that I am grateful he has not always had those wings.  If he’d had them when he was my enemy, I fear the outcome would have been far different.  They are a most effective weapon.”

Steve nods.  He’s considered that as well.  Fighting a Loki who had magic and was skilled with weapons had been difficult enough; fighting a Loki who _was_ a weapon could’ve been much worse.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.  He hasn’t been sleeping well the last few nights.  Maybe this is why.”

Thor shrugs.  “He will learn to control this just as he has learned to control his magic.”

“You’ve been gone a lot lately,” Natasha says without looking at him, a handful of pillow stuffing disappearing into the trash bag.

He bends down to scoop up more of the fluffy, white tumbleweeds from the destroyed pillows, figuring that he should make himself useful.  “Been working on a project.  It’s a surprise for Loki.”

She gives him a sideways look.  “Are you sure surprising him is a good idea?”

“I hope he’ll like this one.”

Steve knows he has a lot riding on his project.  He won’t be able to keep it from the others much longer, but it’s been nice to have something that is just his and will soon be, maybe, just his and Loki’s.  As much as he loves his strange, surrogate family, he misses having a place to go where it’s just the two of them.  It’ll be different this time. 

Everything will be different this time.

Once the living room is as tidied as it can be after Loki tore through it with his wings set to shred, Steve hauls the bags of wrecked pillows and sofa cushions down to the building’s trash collection.  Pepper holds the elevator for him on his way back up.

“I’m sorry about...” He’s not sure what to apologize for.

Pepper gives him a radiant smile.  “Has Tony told you about the birthday party where he put on the Iron Man suit and got drunk?”

“No,” he says carefully.

“This can’t be worse than that, believe me.”

Steve looks up at the small number ticking off the floors.  “His room is covered in three inches of solid ice and he shredded all the furniture in the living room.” 

“Oh.”  She’s quiet for several floors.  “You know, Steve.  Not a lot of people would do what you’ve done for him.  He’s lucky to have you.”

“He has Thor too,” he adds.

“Are you,” she hesitates.  “Are you okay?  You and Thor have never said a word about how hard this is for you.”

Steve swallows.  He doesn’t know how to answer that.  It seems strange that anyone would think he wouldn’t be willing to do what he’s done for Loki.  In his mind, it’s the least he could do.  After everything he’d put Loki through and everything Loki had suffered at Centipede’s hands, Steve doesn’t know how he could live with himself if he’d done any less.

She changes the subject.  “How’s your project going?  Was Alan able to help you get the building permits you needed?”

“Yes, thank you.  I couldn’t have done it without you.”

As the elevator doors open, she links her arm through his.  “With the amount of times he’s been here repairing the Tower, I should probably keep him on retainer.  Along with all of the lawyers.”

He sticks by her side as she surveys all of the damage, taking photographs with her phone and sending them to the insurance company.  She smiles when Thor tries to explain that Loki hadn’t meant to cause destruction – _this time_ – and thanks her for the recommendation of a museum exhibition on scientific instruments that he’d taken Jane to see.

“Stark’s hopeless without her,” Natasha comments, holding out a beer.

“Aren’t we all?”  Steve takes the beer before he goes to get cleaned up.  He’s still covered in sheetrock dust and wood shavings.

Back in his room, he quietly strips out of his work clothes and showers.  When he comes out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, he sees Loki sitting up in bed, his arms wrapped around his knees.  He looks weary and haunted.

Steve wishes he knew what was going on inside Loki’s head. 

“Hey.”  He sits down on the bed beside Loki.  “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Thor?” Loki asks hoarsely.

“A few scratches.  He’ll be fine.”  He smiles.  “Are you okay?”

Loki’s adam’s apple moves as he struggles to speak.  “Frost Giant,” he finally manages.

“That’s what you are.”  Steve settles his hand on Loki’s arm.  “You don’t need to be ashamed or afraid of that.”

“Thor is…not.”  He looks truly perplexed by the idea. 

It’s the first full sentence, however short, that Steve has heard him say.  He wants more than anything to wrap his arms around Loki and hold him.  “Thor is Asgardian, that’s right.  You were adopted when you were just a baby.”

“Adopted,” Loki repeats, his voice tired.

“Lots of people are adopted.  It doesn’t mean Thor isn’t your brother.  Family is more than blood.”

Loki shifts, moving to take Steve’s hand.  “Steve.”

“Try to get some rest, okay?”  He reaches out to brush Loki’s hair away from his face.  “We’ll go out tonight, try a new restaurant, and wander around the city for awhile. Would you like that?”

Loki nods as he lies down, allowing Steve to pull the blanket over him once again.

**

Pepper hears the _click_ as she sits down and she knows.  She just knows.  Part of her has been waiting for this moment since Tony told her that Centipede had fingers in everything _except_ Stark Industries.  And then Tony had a brilliant idea to tempt Centipede into taking a bite of a poisoned apple.

“JARVIS?” she says and her voice is steady despite her fear.  “Where’s Tony?”

“He is currently on a mission for SHIELD, Miss Potts.”

“Steve?” she asks.

“With Mister Stark, Miss Potts.  All of the Avengers are currently with SHIELD.”

Pepper closes her eyes and tries to breathe.  “I need you sound the alarm and clear the building.”

“I will alert Mister Stark as well,” JARVIS informs her.

Alarms begin to sound, red lights flashing.  Pepper grips the arm rests of her chair and prays for the employees of Stark Industries who are just trying to make a living.

“Pepper!”  Happy Hogan bursts into the office.  “What’s with the alarm?  What’s going on?”

She opens her eyes and tries to smile.  “Happy, would you look under my chair and tell me what you see?”

He looks at her strangely before he comes close and leans over, peering underneath her sleek, leather executive chair.  “Oh my god,” he whispers.

“Bomb?” she asks, her voice finally beginning to shake.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.  Don’t move.”

“I’m not moving.”  She grips the armrests harder.  “Tony’s with SHIELD.  You need to get everyone out of the building now.”

“Pepper,” Happy says, his voice torn.

“I’ll survive the blast.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’ll have to take that chance.  Just get everyone out,” she orders sharply.  “Go.  Make sure the building is clear.  Please.”

“Pepper,” he repeats.  But he heads for the door and doesn’t look back.

She leans back in the chair and looks up at the ceiling.  She wants to ask JARVIS what her odds are for surviving a direct blast, but even with Extremis, she’s pretty sure she already knows.  Now she has a good idea of how Tony felt when he couldn’t reach her during the battle of New York.

“There is one option available, Miss Potts,” JARVIS says.

“Anything, JARVIS,” she says desperately.  She wants to believe that she’ll walk away from this and see Tony again and no one else will get hurt.

“Remain where you are,” JARVIS tells her.

Minutes crawl by like hours.  The alarms continue to wail as she watches a steady stream of people go past her office.  She’s glad they’re safe, but that doesn’t quell the fear choking up inside her throat.  When she sees Happy approaching her office door again, she wants to scream at him.

“There’s someone here,” he says as he opens the door.  “JARVIS says he sent him.”

“Let him in,” she says quickly.  Happy frowns but he gives her a nod and walks away. The last person she expects to see is Loki.  He looks just as confused to be there.

“I don’t like this guy,” Happy says.  “Isn’t he…you know… _the_ _guy_?”

“He can help,” JARVIS interjects.

“Just get out, Happy.  Please.  I need to know that you’re safe.”  She tries to smile again.  Once Happy is gone, she watches Loki as he looks around her office.  “There’s a bomb attached to my chair.  I think…I think if I move, it’ll go off and hurt a lot of people.”

Loki finally turns to look at her.  “Pepper,” he says quietly.

“That’s right.  My name is Pepper.”  She smiles as brightly as she can.  She’s trying to remember what Tony has told her about Loki’s condition and how much he understands. 

He moves cautiously around her desk and crouches by the side of her chair, examining the device beneath the seat.

“Can you disable the device?” JARVIS asks.

Loki shakes his head, his brow furrowed.

“JARVIS,” Pepper says.  “Is everyone clear?”

“I am unable to ascertain the nature of the device and do not know how large the blast radius will be or how much damage the building will sustain.”

“Oh god.”  She closes her eyes and tries to take deep breaths. 

Loki’s hand settles over her arm, his expression serious.  “Pepper,” he says again.

“If there’s anything you can do.”  She hopes that she doesn’t sound desperate.

He looks toward the windows behind her for a moment before he stands.  She can’t see what he’s doing but she hears glass shatter, even when she knows that it’s reinforced and bulletproof and shouldn’t be breaking at all.  Pale arms reach around her.  She gasps as both she and the chair are jerked backwards.  The chair leaves the ground and she watches the window frame, jagged with broken glass, rush past her.  She screams as she catches sight of the street twelve stories below. The beat of his wings as he climbs up into the sky is physically jarring, forcing the air from her lungs with every stroke.  New York City begins to spread out around her, growing smaller by the second.  In moments, all she can see is blue sky and white clouds.  Then the world begins to tilt and spin and she loses her grip on the chair. 

She’s falling down toward the city for endless, terrifying seconds.  Black wings fill her vision, strong arms wrap around her.  Wind howls around her ears; a moment later, she hears a blast and feels heat wash over her legs.  The only solid thing she has to cling to is Loki and she holds on for dear life.

“Pepper,” Loki says.

Suddenly, she realizes that her feet are on solid ground; she’s standing on the terrace of Stark Tower.  Pulling away from Loki, she stumbles when she turns to start toward the door and he catches her arm, helping her regain her balance.

He helps her inside and onto the couch.  She doesn’t say anything when he presses a glass of brandy into her hands.

“JARVIS?” she asks.

“He was the only one home, Miss Potts.”

She swallows down the brandy.   The adrenaline is beginning to dissipate and her hands tremble.

“Pepper,” Loki says again as he sits beside her.

“I know my name,” she says crossly.  Immediately sorry for her sharp tone, she winces and reaches out for his hand.  “I’m sorry.  Thank you.”

He looks away. “Monster.” 

Pepper tightens her grip on his hand.  “You are not a monster.  At least, not anymore.  Not lately.” 

His skin is cool to the touch and, in that instant, she can feel Extremis pulsing in her veins and knows exactly how close she was to being burned away in the blast of the bomb set beneath her chair. 

“Loki,” she says before she can think better of it.  “Steve loves you.”  Green eyes meet hers and she sees herself mirrored in that conflict and confusion.  “Don’t give up on him.  He deserves someone who believes in him.”

Loki’s fingers close around hers for a moment and he smiles.  “Pepper.”

She laughs and maybe it’s the brandy, but she thinks she sees vulnerability and hope in Loki’s eyes.  “It’s worth it, I promise,” she tells him.

The last thing she expects is for Loki to pull her against his chest and wrap his wings around her.  She’s breathless and amazed at how _comforting_ it is.  She closes her eyes and sinks into the darkness of black feathers.  It feels too good to just be still and safe. 

No wonder Steve had let his guard down. 

Loki rouses her just as she’s about to fall asleep.  She blinks against the light when he pulls his wings back and stands up, moving away.  Self-conscious, she brushes at her hair and fixes her skirt.  She sees Tony land on the terrace at the same time the elevator opens.

“Pepper,” Steve begins.  He’s still in his SHIELD uniform.  “Loki?  What are you…what happened?  JARVIS said there was a bomb.”

“It’s fine.  I’m fine.”  She barely has time to smile before Tony is there and pulling her into his arms.  “I’m fine,” she says again, trying not to cry.

“God, Pepper.”  He presses kisses against her hair, her cheek, her lips.  “You’re okay.  You’re okay.”  He kisses her again, pulling her close.  “Thank god, you’re okay.”

“I am.  I am okay.”  She laughs a little nervously.  “Tony, there was a bomb under my chair.  How could someone get a bomb into my office?”

Tony frowns.  “JARVIS, why isn’t the bomb squad here already?  Are you telling me there’s a bomb in my building and no one’s doing anything about it?”

“The device exploded, sir.”

“Then why isn’t there a smoking crater in the side of the tower?”

“Tony.”  Pepper catches his shoulders and turns him to face her.  “The bomb exploded in the air.”

“The air?  What?  How?”  He follows Pepper’s gaze to where Loki is standing.

“He was the only one home, sir,” JARVIS says.

“Him?”  Tony points toward Loki, eyebrows raising.  “He saved you?”

“He flew?” Steve asks, looking as surprised as Tony.

Pepper thinks she’s going to need more brandy.  “Yes.  He carried me and the chair and the bomb out through the window.  The bomb exploded over the city.  All I lost was my chair.”

“Well.”  Tony looks almost annoyed.  “How am I supposed to figure out who tried to blow up my building, and my girlfriend, without any data about the bomb?  Did you get a look at it?  Were there wires?”

Loki steps forward, raising one hand out in front of him.  Shimmering green and gold threads appear, writhing and twisting together until they form the image of a device.  It’s rectangular, with several boxes and wires jutting out from its surface.  Raising his other hand, Loki makes a sharp gesture and the device begins to disassemble, the various pieces coming apart and spreading out into the air.

Tony gives Steve a peculiar look for a moment.  Then he shrugs and moves toward the images hanging in the air.  “I can work with this.”

Her legs still feel like jelly, so she sits back down.  After a moment, Steve takes a seat beside her.  His brow is furrowed, but he gives her a quick smile.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he says.  “Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt you?”

“It’s more likely that they didn’t want to hurt me.  Just Stark Industries or Tony himself.  It wouldn’t be the first time someone went after me to get to Tony.  And he’s been playing cat and mouse with Centipede for months.”

Steve stares at her for a moment, his frown deepening.  “Right.”

“I’m just glad Loki was here.”  She has to laugh at herself, because she never thought she’d ever say those words in her life.

She’s had her doubts.  She’s listened to Tony voice those same doubts night after night.  As the time went by, they’ve all wondered if this was an elaborate trap that Loki was building around them.  They’ve all wondered why and they’ve all worried over what would happen to Steve if it turned out to all be one of Loki’s lies.  She smiles at Steve and thinks that, maybe, they can stop wondering.

“Bingo,” Tony says suddenly.  “Looks like our Centipede friends decided to send me a message.”

Steve’s expression turns cold and hard.  “If this was Centipede, we need to bring in SHIELD.”

Tony nods.  “And we need to figure out how someone got a bomb into the Tower.  Why your office?  Why not bring it all the way up and take out the Avengers?”  Turning back to the image of the device, Tony rubs his chin thoughtfully. 

“It’s employee access only on that floor.  I’ll have HR pull employment records.”  That, at least, is something she can do.  She reaches for her phone and then realizes that she left everything behind in her office.   The thought of going back downstairs to her office makes her shiver.

“Let me check your office first, make sure it’s clear,” Steve says.

She sinks gratefully back against couch.  Staying still is perfectly fine with her.

**

Steve decides it’s time.

He’s felt strange all afternoon.  None of them were pleased to know that an enemy had managed to get a bomb into Stark Tower, but this was something else.  Loki had _flown_.  Loki had saved Pepper and who knows how many others would’ve been hurt or killed if the bomb had detonated inside the Tower.  And he’d studied the device closely enough beforehand to be able to reproduce a perfect image for Tony.

It’s everything Steve had ever hoped for and more, which means there’s only one, tiny piece of the picture left to put into place. He’s nervous, even though he knows that he shouldn’t be.

He takes Loki out for dinner, a French restaurant this time.  He brings white roses bound with a green ribbon.  As they walk to the restaurant, he talks about how the city used to be, in his time.  Over dinner, he talks about the strange foods he’s tried on various missions for SHIELD.

People stare and whisper, as usual, when they see his wings, but Loki doesn’t notice them. 

They see a show on Broadway afterward and walk, hand in hand, as night settles down over the city.  Loki keeps the roses cradled in one arm, his fingers working over the ribbon.  There’s a chill in the air, the first whisper of winter.  As they walk, he runs out of small talk and they settle into a comfortable silence.

If Loki is surprised at their destination, he doesn’t show it.

The exterior lights are new, Steve added those.  They’re an old-fashioned style, looking more like gaslights than modern city street lamps.  He fumbles in his jacket pocket for the key, pulling Loki with him up the concrete steps to the large, double wooden doors.  The doors open inward.  He can still smell the fresh paint, just slightly.  Letting go of Loki’s hand, he presses the light switch on the wall and turns to close the doors behind them.

Loki moves cautiously into the interior space, his eyes wide as he takes it in.

“I hope you like what I’ve done with it.”  Steve shoves his hands into his pockets.  He’s spent all of his free time transforming the old warehouse from a hollow shell to what it is now.  “Here.  Let me put these in some water.”  He takes the roses gently.

Loki keeps the ribbon, winding it around his fingers.

He decides to let Loki wander the space freely and moves to the fireplace.  Although he’d kept the interior of the fireplace intact, only doing needed repairs to the flue mechanism and the chimney, the new mantle and hearth make it much more homey and inviting.  He works carefully to build a fire first, to warm the space, moving the metal screen into place once the first log is steadily burning. 

The central space is smaller than before.  He’d expanded the other spaces and added a second bedroom and another, smaller bathroom.  It feels less like a birdcage and more like an expansive loft, but there is still enough space for Loki to spread his wings.  On the lower half, he’d removed the windows and bricked them up to allow for privacy.  The upper windows were replaced with wide, arched double windows that let in a lot of sunlight during the day and could be opened to release heat during the night.  The biggest change is the lack of candles.  He updated the wiring and added plenty of hanging lights and lamps; the warehouse feels more like a home and less like a cave.

He takes the stairs to the remodeled kitchen level, although he’d kept most of the metal supports that he’d always used before.  Filling a tall crystal vase with water, he carefully arranges the roses and sets them in the center of the small kitchen table.  He picks out a bottle of wine, then collects two glasses and heads back down to wait. 

There’s a strange expression on Loki’s face as he comes down the stairs from the master bedroom, his fingers trailing lightly over the bookshelves that cover most of the walls.

“SHIELD kept your books and the rest of your things.  They’re all here.  And there’s space for more.”  Steve holds out the glass of wine, hoping his hand isn’t shaking enough for Loki to notice.

Loki accepts the glass, swirling the wine slightly before he raises it to his lips.

“JARVIS has a direct line.  He’s not watching or monitoring, like Stark Tower, but he’ll be able to patch in if SHIELD needs me.”  The words feel clumsy and wrong on his tongue.  “The others don’t know about this, not yet.  But when you’re ready…if you’re ready…to have your own space.  This is yours.”  He hesitates, swallowing hard and hoping he isn’t about to make a fool of himself.  “If you want, it could be ours.”

“Ours,” Loki repeats softly.

“If you wanted to, I mean.  You don’t have to.  But if you want me to, um, live with you.  We could do that.”  He sips at his wine, feeling the blush spread over his cheeks.  This is one of the times he wishes Loki was ready to speak more than a few words at a time.

Loki frowns slightly.  “Why?”

“What do you mean?”  He can see Loki struggling to communicate.  Taking Loki’s hand, he leads him the nearest bench and sits down.  If Loki can’t get his words out, then it’s up to Steve to bridge the gap.  “I did this for you and for us, if you want.  I want there to be an _us_.  I want to be with you.  I want to come home to you every night and wake up next to you in the morning.  I want us to have a place that’s ours.”

Loki reaches out, his fingers lightly tracing the veins on the inside of Steve’s wrist.  “Lover.”

“I’d…I’d like to…I want to.  I want you.”  Steve laughs a little, mostly over how tongue-tied and bumbling he sounds.  “When you’re ready, if you want to, I want to make love to you.  With you.  It won’t be like before, I promise.  It won’t ever be like that again.  If you can give me a chance.”

Working the ribbon in his fingers, Loki leaves the bench.  He moves closer to the fireplace and settles down on the rug, still swirling his wine slowly in his glass.

Steve bites his lip.  He can’t know if Loki’s silence is because he doesn’t like the warehouse or doesn’t want Steve or if it’s simply because he’s not ready to speak.  Trying to take deep breaths, and not assume the worst, he takes a seat on the rug close to Loki and watches the fire.  The wine is soothing, if nothing else.

 _Please want to be with me, even if you can’t love me the way I love you_ , he thinks, not quite able to bring himself to say it aloud. 

“Steve,” Loki says, his gaze on the fire.  He sighs and Steve sees something that looks like impatience on his face.

He can’t imagine how frustrating it is for Loki, who could always spin words like threads of silk, to be trapped so tightly inside himself that he can barely speak.  “Take your time.” 

Loki shifts, turning to face Steve, and sets the glass of wine down.  Gently, he reaches for Steve’s hand and laces their fingers together.  He takes the ribbon and winds it around their wrists, Steve’s right hand bound to his left.  There’s a smile on his lips as he tucks the ends of the ribbon to secure them.

“Ours,” he says.

**

The door to Nick Fury’s office is ajar.

He pauses, listening, but hears nothing inside that would give away the presence of someone inside.  One hand on his gun, he pushes the door open and peers inside.  The chair behind his desk is empty.  He sees no one and nothing looks out of place.

He’s learned not to take chances.

Stepping inside, he scans the office.  Once he’s checked everywhere else, he glances behind the door and makes sure there’s no one there either.  He looks under his chair before he sits down.  Can’t be too careful after what happened at Stark Tower.

The door swings closed, slowly, all by itself.

Very carefully, Fury sets his gun on his desk, not taking his hand off of it.  “Being invisible doesn’t mean you won’t bleed when I shoot you.”

Laughter answers him, low and menacing.

“Show yourself.”

A shimmer on the air, like a cascade of golden dust, reveals Loki standing in front of his door.  He’s dressed in a simpler version of his Asgardian armor; a dark green tunic with swirling patterns of golden thread and dark leather pants.  His black wings catch the light from the window along their edges.

“Loki.”  Fury doesn’t relax.  “What are you doing here?”

Loki moves forward, his movements casual and fluidly graceful.  “I have come to negotiate the terms of my continued truce with your world.”  Green eyes come to settle on him; Loki’s gaze is cold.

Leaning back in his chair, Fury keeps his expression carefully neutral.  “You played us.”

One corner of Loki’s lips rises in a cruel smirk.  “Have I?”

“What do you want?”

Loki turns, moving to the wall and perusing the maps and pictures.  He trails his fingers over one of them, a picture of the Avengers from the Battle of New York.  “Captain Rogers is mine.”

“I’m hardly in the position to give you-”

“That wasn’t a request,” Loki says sharply.  “Captain Rogers is mine.  Accept this as fact.”

Fury frowns, trying to gauge Loki’s mood and unable to pin him down.  “If Cap’s already yours, then I fail to see what there is to negotiate.”

“I wish to set an example.”  Loki turns back and pulls one of the other chairs with him, turning it backwards so he can sit comfortably.  “Tell me where I will find the creature known as the Abomination.”

Fury hesitates.  “Why do you want to know?”  Loki’s smile makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. 

“So that I may kill it.  Slowly, painfully; it will beg for death long before I will be merciful enough to grant it.  As I will do to anyone, or anything, who raises a hand against Captain Rogers.  It is a condition that will benefit you and your SHIELD as well, but do not misunderstand; I am not one of your assassins.  I am not yours to control.”  Loki waits a beat.  “Steve cannot know of this.  He must never know.”

“And if he finds out?”

“I shall be very _unpleasant_.”

In the end, Fury sees no harm in telling Loki where to look.  If he’s very lucky, which he never is, sending Loki after the Abomination will get rid of two birds with one stone.


End file.
